(We have a regular customer who was diagnosed with breast cancer and had lost all her hair from the Chemo. She is only 17 at the time. Everyone who goes to the shop more than once knows her. I’m a barista who is out the back getting ready for my shift in few minutes. Three very obnoxious customers came in and began to talk very loudly at the end of a mildly long line.)

Customer #1: “Ugh, why did we have to come to this hipster place? It’s so trashy!”

Customer #2: “I know! Everyone is so stuck up with their MacBooks and iPads! Like, get a life!”

Customer #3: “And everyone looks so ugly! Look at that girl in the corner! She has no hair!”

Customer #2: “That’s because she’s super hipster! She does it for no other reason than because no one else is!”

Customer #1: “Oh, my God! Ew!”

(At this point pretty much everyone inside has heard what they’ve said and is looking in the general direction of the trio. Customer #3 seems to notice this and quietens up. Two police officers (both regulars) walk in and join the line behind the three customers. The three customers talk like this for another minute before one deliberately talks loudly enough for the whole place to hear.)

Customer #1: “Hipsters are stupid! Your head looks retarded; I mean come on, who would want to be bald and ugly like you?!”

(At this point, the girl in the corner starts to cry a little bit. Everyone around her begins to comfort her, but the barista loses his cool.)

Barista: “No. You do not talk to her that way! Get out of my store! The three of you! You’re not welcome here! Ever!”

Customer #1: “I’ve been waiting in line for 10 minutes (more like three) and I’m not leaving without my coffee!”

Customer #2: “Yeah, we deserve our coffee!”

(Customer #3 hasn’t said a word since she walked in, and begins to walk out and wait outside for the other two.)

Customer #2:*to Customer #3* “Where are you going?! Don’t wuss out! We need to get our coffee before next class!”

Barista: “Take your friends advice and, for the last time, leave.”

Customers #1 & 2: “No!”

Police Officer #1: “You two have been asked to leave by the gentlemen behind the counter. I suggest you do so.”

Customer #2: “That hipster can’t make us leave!”

Customer #1: “We have rights!”

Police Officer #1: “So does everyone else here and you are violating them. You’ve visibly upset this poor girl who’s going through the toughest time in her life right now.”

Customer #1: “As if! We go to Uni! We get way more stressed!”

Police Officer #2: “We’re not here to argue with you. Either leave or you’ll both be arrested for trespassing since you’ve already been asked to leave twice.”

Customer #1: “You cant f***ing do that! We haven’t done anything wrong and we’re not f***ing leaving until we get our f***ing coffee, you a**hole!”

Police Officer #2: “That’s it, turn around, hands behind your back.”

Police Officer #1: “Now.”

(As the officers try to motion them to turn around, they resist and begin to try and push the officers away. After a bit more fighting, the unruly customers end on the ground, squealing with their hands cuffed. As the officers are radioing in for a car, everyone is comforting the girl in the corner, whose name is Hannah. However, they quickly begin laughing their heads off as Hannah herself is jumping up and down (in the literal sense) in her seat with the biggest smile on her face. Her father later comes in as news spreads and buys everyone a drink. A couple of years later, Hannah has beaten her cancer but remains bald for her own personal reasons. She’s still stops by every few weeks to chat and everyone loves her. Even the two police officers stop by at least once a week. We all refer to that as the day as ‘The Most Awesome Day Ever’.)

(For Christmas, the bakery I work at makes elaborate gingerbread houses, complete with some reindeer, Santa, and a few trees. Understandably, the whole thing is rather fragile, and pricey, and we wrap them carefully and display them on top of the pastry case with signs requesting that customers seek help before handling them. A customer walks in and wanders up to the display case and starts to examine the gingerbread houses. As Christmas is busy, my coworkers and I are not paying attention, she ends up breaking the reindeer and some trees in one of the gingerbread houses when she handled it.)

Customer: “Excuse me!”

(There’s a line of ten people in front of her, so we politely but quickly ask her to step in line. She shakes the very fragile gingerbread house at us.)

Customer: “Excuse me! I want to buy a gingerbread house! This one is broken!”

(As the most senior front end employee, I end up walking to the front and helping her.)

Me: “I’m terribly sorry. We have others.”

(I start to reach for an intact one, but she shakes the one she’s holding, breaking it further.)

Customer: “No! Those ones are probably just as stale as this one. That’s why it broke! You shouldn’t be selling your customers such cheap product.”

Me: “No, ma’am, it broke because you’ve been shaking it. I can assure you that they were all put together yesterday.”

Me: “I’m the worker in charge tonight, ma’am, and I can assure you that, when shaken, gingerbread breaks like most other pastries.”

(She fumes and reached for another one. I quickly intercept and, after a few bitter words, she allows me to take down the gingerbread house she wants. Before letting her touch it, though, I turned it carefully so she could see that it was all intact. I then ring her in, charging double, which she was quick to jump on.)

Customer: “What? They’re $45 dollars! I will not pay $100 for a gingerbread house!”

Me: “No, ma’am, the broken ones are $45. Some people prefer them in bite size pieces. The intact ones take much longer to prepare, so we have to charge extra.”

Customer: “This f***ing store is a godd*** disgrace! Owned by an Arab!” she’s referring to the head pastry chef who is Filipino* “-and a f***ing c****!” *referring to me, as I’m half-Chinese*

(She throws a $100 bill on the counter and storms off, almost knocking an elderly man to the ground when she opens the door to leave. I ended up using the extra $50 to buy the other customers hot drinks, and passed out the broken gingerbread to accompany the beverages. Needless to say, we got some pretty amazing tips that night. The customer came back to complain later when the owners were around, but the head chef’s husband gave her a proper telling off when he heard her refer to his wife as an Arab.)

(I work at a supermarket stocking shelves. I’m a relatively small girl; about five foot four and barely one hundred five pounds. Also, despite being in my early twenties, I look more like I’m fifteen. I have gone behind one of the registers to get a spray bottle.)

Customer: “Are you opening?”

Me: “No.”

Customer: “Why not?”

Me: “I don’t work in this department.”

Customer: “What department do you work in?”

Me: “I work in grocery sir. I stock the shelves.”

Customer: “A girl like you shouldn’t be doing a man’s job. You should either be behind a register or in the bakery.”

Me: “Would you like me to call the store manager, sir? I’m sure she would be more than happy to assist you.”

(There was recently a vote in Minnesota whether or not to change the constitution to make same-sex marriage illegal. Voting ‘Yes’ would be for making it illegal, and vice versa for ‘No’. It should also be noted that there is already a law in place prohibiting same-sex marriage. I’m wiping tables at coffee shop. It’s been pretty slow, and I see two young women obviously in a relationship. They order their drinks, and then sit down. A young man of around 20 is sitting a little ways from them, wearing a heavy jacket. I’ve noticed several looks pass back and forth between them, until finally, one of the young women walks over to him.)

Young Woman #1:*to the young man* “Would you please mind your own business?”

Young Man: “I’m sorry?”

Young Woman #1: “You’ve been glaring at us for the better part of five minutes. Is there something you’d like to say?”

Young Man: “Oh… look, I’m sorry. It’s just that I saw you two there, and—”

Young Woman #1: “And what? You thought I wouldn’t notice you being passive aggressive over here?”

Young Man: “Please, I’m sorry.”

(The young woman bends down and jostles the table, causing the young man to flinch back, shifting his jacket slightly. She smiles sweetly.)

Young Woman #1: “See, that wasn’t so…”

(She trails off because of what she sees: beneath the young man’s now-open jacket is a bright blue ‘VOTE NO’ t-shirt. She stands slack-jawed for a moment.)

Young Woman #1: “I… uh…”

Young Man:*looks down* “Oh, um, I guess that would’ve helped.”

(The young woman stutters a few more times, then rushes back to her seat. Eventually, she comes back to apologize to the poor guy.)

Young Woman #1: “I’m sorry about that. My girlfriend just came out to her family, and they aren’t taking it well.”

Young Man: “It’s okay. I’ve just been through a nasty breakup myself, and seeing the two of you so happy together was pretty tough for me.”

(After hearing this, I talk to my manager, and he lets me purchase two $25 gift cards with my employee discount, which I give to both parties. All three seemed to leave as friends.)